lets just take some time to appreciate his bottom lip's game

Sugar Sweet | 5 | (M)

word count: 5.4k

genre: lots of smut + fluff + slight angst; college AU + fuckboy!kihyun

pairing: reader/kihyun

summary: your best friend & roommate changkyun just wanted to help get you laid. instead you found solace in a pink haired man named kihyun who had a smart mouth with sharp words you weren’t afraid to let cut you, as long as he didn’t mind you hurting him a little too.

a/n: i’m so sorry for the wait guys! work has been stressing me lately along with some personal issues but i appreciate your guy’s patience. the next chapter will already be written out but requests will be taken care of before i post the next so please continue to be patient until then and check the schedule if you’re wondering about it.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 6 | part 7

masterlist

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hair dye [ cm x r ]

fandom : Dear Evan Hansen

by : Summer

pairing : Connor Murphy x Reader

summary : in which you and Zoe are dying your hair and try to convince Connor to dye his. 

request : “Could you write some Connor Murphy imagine where he is a virgin and the reader isn’t and it’s some smut.”

word count : 7,007

warnings : boy oh boy is this gonna be a sMUT HNNGGGFFFF, y’all can’t have a smut w/o a hella lotta sexual innuendos, cursing, mentions blood?, ooc writing, rushed writing, terrible writing in general;;,,,,,

 a / n : Inspired by when I dyed my hair and was super lazy per usual and stained my pillowcase. i’m such a sinner… Is it just me or did my writing change completely like halfway through it? idk it’s bad, sorry. Thanks for reading though. Any sort of support is sincerely respected: liking, commenting, reblogging, following, anything! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :) Much love.


“What the alien cult shit is going on?” Connor asked with a very pissed and very confused expression.

He had just walked past the bathroom when he saw his sister sitting on a chair with strands of hair sectioned off into tubes of tin foil. Y/N, his girlfriend was standing beside Zoe with purple hands. Purple? Blue? Indigo.

“It’s the devil himself,” Zoe said sarcastically.

“You little bi-”

“Zoe,” You cut off Connor rapidly, “if anything he’s a handsome devil.

“…Fuck you,” Connor mumbled, crossing his arms, and leaning against the doorframe.

“Y/N, you’re gross,” Zoe groaned. You snapped your indigo stained gloves off.

“Grossly in love,” you sang, walking over to Connor and tapping him on the nose. His scowl softened just slightly. Zoe simply groaned.

“I literally cannot have a single day without sharing you,” Zoe slapped the bathroom counter with both hands, “Y/N, you’re supposed to be my best friend. If anything, you’re like my sister and that’d be super weird to think of my sister dating my brother.”

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Secrets

MASTERLIST

Requested: yes

Word count: 2,611

Small echoes from the few passing cars rang in my ears, as the sun started to burn properly into my skin. My heavy feet dragged themselves across the street, aching every step of the way. They always hurt like this, whenever I’d joined the boys for their early morning workout.

Though, I didn’t quite want to admit it, I simply couldn’t keep up with them. Especially Geoff was a beast and contingently mocked me, every time I had to stop and catch my breath.

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Your Grace

Request: Can u do a Bucky game of thrones inspired smut!!!

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who submitted this to me forever ago! So this probably isn’t as GoT themed as it could be, but I tried. What I will say is that this is some fuckin S I N and if any of y’all wanna dump me in a vat of holy water it would be much appreciated. I’m gonna go take a time out. This is a late Happy 100th to our fav old man! 

Summary: TV marathons aren’t really your thing. Bucky learns that the hard way.

Warnings: Basically porn lol [NSFW], Dom!Reader, Sub!Bucky (I’m a slut for Sub!Bucky), Oral, Hair Pulling kink, Swearing, Light Bondage (handcuffs), Blindfolds, Choking, Spanking (tip tappin on Bucky’s lil bum), Praise kink, Edging, Unprotected Sex (condoms are cool, kids), a lil bit of fluff

Word Count: 2,479

Originally posted by bagelbarnes

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Whatever The Hell We Want

The bed shifts as he carefully moves, trying not to wake me. Instinctively, I cling to him and moan a quiet protest.

“Shhh. Go back to sleep.” He coos. His voice is so sweet and gentle.

I feel his weight lift from the bed, and hear the sounds of clothing rustling quietly. I stretch and groan. When I open my eyes, I see a shirtless Bellamy standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with the belt of his pants. I smile, happily enjoying the view. My eyes scan over the muscles of his back, his strong arms, his chiseled chest, every inch of him looks like it’s been sculpted by the Gods and it is a glorious sight to see, especially first thing in the morning. He catches me looking and smirks. I smirk back and wiggle my eyebrows at him. He pulls a shirt over his head and I let out a little disappointed sigh.

His weight returns to the edge of the bed, his boots in hand he leans down to put them on. I sit up and move to sit behind him and rub his back gently.

“Where are you going this early in the morning?” I press a few soft kisses on his neck and shoulders.

“I have to check on a few things, run over some plans with Kane.” He has a tinge of morning voice, but still the sound is so masculine and assuring.

“C’mon. It’s been three days with no impending doom, nobody trying to kill us, there’s finally been just a little bit of peace around here. Can’t we enjoy it? Do you really have to go?” I squeeze a hug from behind, and he turns to smile at me softly.

“Yes, but I’ll be back, I promise.” He shifts his body to kiss me, “Now, you go back to sleep.”

I kiss the back of his neck one more time before he stands to leave. He leans down for another kiss, then quietly heads out the door. I lay back on the bed, yawning and stretching. If he says I can go back to sleep, then I’m going to go back to sleep. It’s been a long time since any of us had the luxury of real sleep. I turn on my side, pull the blanket around me, and snuggle into the pillow.

Some time later, Bellamy returns but I’m too sleepy to acknowledge him. I hear him kick off his boots. Then I feel him approaching the bed and the movement of the air makes me realize the blanket isn’t covering my backside, revealing my panty clad behind and an inch or two of skin where my shirt has ridden up. I feel his warm hands slide up my thighs, over my butt, under my shirt, as he climbs into the bed behind me. He wraps his arm around me and kisses my neck. I’m awake now.

“Mmmmmm, hello.” I purr.

“I told you I’d come back.” He says and continues to kiss up and down my neck, my shoulders, my jaw line, my earlobe. Oh, that one feels good. And he knows it, too, as he bites down on it gently. I respond by pushing my backside into him. He pushes back with a moan. His fingers trace up and down my arm, while his lips find their way to the crook of my neck.

“Mmmmm….” My eyes close, enjoying the sensation of his warmth. I turn to face him, and brush one of his curls out of his face. Our eyes on each other, he takes my hand and with a squeeze brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“What should we do today? It’s been three days with no impending doom, nobody trying to kill us, there’s finally been just a little bit of peace around here, we should probably enjoy it.” He says with a smirk, mocking my earlier sentiment.

“What do you want to do today?” I ask him.

“Whatever the hell we want.” He kisses me. I almost roll my eyes. That’s what he used to say when we first landed on the ground.

When he pulls away I ask, “And what is it that you want? Because frankly, I’d like to stay in this warm comfortable bed as long as possible.”

“I have a better idea.” His smirk could make a girls knees weak.

I furrow my brow in confusion, and anticipation, “What’s that exactly?”

He gets up from the bed and reaches a hand down to help me up, “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

I get up from the bed, and after a playful game of keep away, full of stolen kisses and butt squeezes, I finally retrieve my pants and put them on. Once I’m all dressed, I give him a quick peck on the lips, “Ready.” I smile at him.

“Let’s go.” He takes my hand and leads me out the door.

Arkadia is quiet. It’s still early and people are lazily starting to get up and go about their day. No-one notices as we slip out the gate, and if they had nobody would argue with Bellamy.

We walk a ways into the woods, not far from our camp but far enough away from any Grounder borders not to worry. I marvel at the beauty of the trees and breathe in the fresh air. Even though we’ve been down here a while, I still appreciate all the wonders of the ground, there just isn’t always time to notice it.

“Almost there.” He says with a pant, his gruff voice pulling my out of my daze.

“Almost where?” I inquire.

“Almost… here.” He says as we round a corner, revealing a cascading waterfall and a shallow river. I gasp a little. It’s so beautiful.

“I knew you’d like it.” I hear his voice in my ear, and feel his arms snake their way around my waist from behind me.

“I do. I really do.” My smile creeping into my voice.

He pulls away from me, “Well then let’s get in.” He says before pulling his shirt over his head.

I laugh and begin to remove my own clothes. Down to our underwear, he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the bottom of the waterfall. There’s a space behind the flow of water and the wall of stones. We enter there, a few drops of cold water spraying us as we go. I let out a little squeal and jump as it hits me, and he laughs.

“It’s cold!” I protest, but end up laughing too.

He pulls me close and kisses me, much more deeply than any of our kisses this morning. The freedom of being away from camp, the romance of this secret special hideaway, it’s dizzying. His hands on my waist, my fingers through his hair… I get lost in our kiss, my skin tingling.

He pulls away, smiling, and dips his head under the stream of water. I watch as it flows down his perfect body. Over his shoulders, down his back, trailing down his muscular legs. He pulls away, eyes closed, and shakes his head, droplets of water spattering from his hair. He wipes his face with his hand and reveals a huge grin. I shake my head, smiling, and stroke his face. He leans in to kiss me, slowly backing me towards the water. I squirm and feel him smirking.

“No no no.” I say, “It is way too cold!”

“But I’ll keep you warm. And besides, I’d really like to see you soaking wet.” Damn this boy and his sultry voice.

The water rushes over us, and I can’t help but squeal and gasp. It quickly turns to laughter as I lift my arms and spin under the flow. He’s laughing too, a remarkable sound. This is what fun feels like. I’d forgotten.

I lean out of the water, still laughing, and pull him with me. Wiping my face with both hands, I let a shiver run through my body. He watches me with a stupid smile on his face. His hand gently brushes the wet hair from my face and he leans in to kiss me.

“This is amazing.” I sigh, “Now what?”

“Whatever the hell we want.” He smirks again, and pulls me closer, hands roaming my body and passion building in our kiss.

anonymous asked:

au prompt: Castle or Beckett is a secret service agent to President Castle or Beckett. who plays what role is up to you :)

The terrorist attack on the White House comes totally and utterly unexpected, in sync with the wave of horrific explosions and decimation sweeping over a slew of major cities across the nation.

And all he can think about is the job he’s had for the last four years: keeping her safe.

Rick Castle, head of the secret service team assigned to protect President Beckett, moves into action the second the missile hits the East Wing of the White House. He hustles Kate out of the Oval Office and scans his eyes over the unfolding chaos before it can touch her.

“Castle,” she gasps, jerking on his hand, slamming them both into the wall as a spray of bullets begina to rain through the air.

“Shit,” he breathes, withdrawing his own piece, aiding in the returning fire of his team, trying not to watch the bodies of government officials falling dead in the halls. “Go ahead of me. Keep going-”

“No,” she hisses, her fingers hooking at his forearm, and he growls, hates now more than ever how stubborn she is. 

“I’m covering you, go,” he commands, keeping both hands on his gun, his arms in position as she leads them down familiar corridors.

At least she knows the drill, isn’t trying to be a hero-

He hears her grunt, the slam of her body into another wall.

Castle immediately spins, sees her pinned by a man in all black riot gear and a gloved hand around Kate’s throat, a knife in the other.

Her knee pistons up into the man’s groin, has him doubling over just as Castle fires the shot into his head.

“Are you okay?” Castle questions, hearing the wheeze of her lungs as she coughs, but she’s already nodding, returning to the mission at hand, running.

-

She waits for Castle to unlock the panic room with his gun cradled in her palms, her heart rabbiting but her finger steady on the trigger as she waits with bated breath.

“Okay, we’re in. Hurry, before someone sees,” he murmurs, his hand at the small of her back.

Kate lowers the sig, but doesn’t give it back until they’ve slipped inside the secret room embedded into the wall, until the door that blends all too perfectly with the wall slides back into place. 

Castle is one of the only people on the planet who knows about the panic room, one of the selected few allowed to know, and probably the only person she’s always trusted would never turn on her. 

He proves her right.

Castle keeps one hand on her arm as they descend down the stairs, the pathway long and dark, foreboding. She feels the cool air embrace her the lower they travel, the weight of moisture clinging to her skin.

The underground safe room was built over a mile deep and by the time they finally reach the floor, the second security enclosed entryway, she’s panting.

“You okay?” he asks, his own breath quickened, his eyes glimmering in the barely lit corridor.

“Let’s just get inside,” she murmurs, but Castle lifts a hand to her face, his palm a familiar fit to her cheek.

“We’re surviving this, Kate.”

“Maybe, but no one else is,” she mutters, scraping a hand through her hair. “I ran like a coward. I’m supposed to keep these people, this country, safe-”

“By dying for your cause? Because that’s all you would have accomplished up there,” he reminds her with a narrowed look. “We’ve gone over this multiple times-”

“Doesn’t make it easier,” she snaps, stepping away from the caress of his hand and punching the code into the lockbox. “How long are we staying in here?”

“As long as it takes,” Castle sighs, following her in as the vaulted door swings open. He slams it shut behind him and enables every lock equipped to withstand all forms of enemies. “We should have electricity down here, so I can have eyes on the outside.”

She reclaims his hand again as they start down the final corridor that will lead them into a safe room the size of a studio apartment, stocked with food and weapons, and hopefully enough hard walls to keep them alive. 

He laces their fingers, squeezes a little too tight, but she welcomes his firm grip, the confirmation that they’ve survived. For now.

-

Kate is curled on the sofa against the wall, her heels and pantsuit gone in favor of jeans and a black sweater, boots better suited for running, fighting. He’s trained with her for years now, knows she can hold her own against a man twice her size. But right now, with a throw blanket he knows once belonged to her parents tugged up to her chin and her eyes so hollow, she looks so small, fragile.

Castle was recruited to lead the security team for President Beckett during her first month of presidency, his knowledge of terrorism after losing both his mother and daughter in the 9/11 attacks profound, aiding him in his career in counter-terrorism.

He didn’t want to work in secret service, to spend his days guarding some woman, but then he met her. He made the deal to work for a year with her and then act on the opportunity to return to his original unit. But after getting to know Kate Beckett, learning her story of rising from homicide detective to senator, the source of her drive born from the grief of losing her mother, he chose to stay.

He chose her, always her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs after he’s set up the security feed and finished sorting the guns and ammunition he stocked down here over a year ago.

Castle glances up from a pile of grenades, rises from his haunches, and mutes the monitor showing them a live feed of the horror unfolding across the property. “For what? Getting down here was a mutual effort.”

“For keeping me safe, not just today,” she answers, biting down on her bottom lip. “For making this job more bearable.”

“You’ve been an amazing leader, an extraordinary president,” he says, his brow still knit in confusion. Her job was the most stressful position in the world, but she’s good at it, and he thought she enjoyed it. “You’ve done right by the people, by justice. Today? This was completely out of your control, Kate.”

She sighs, not wholly convinced, and Rick crosses the room to ease down next to her. 

“Stop thinking like the president, hoarding all the guilt,” he murmurs, earning the turn of her gaze, the shift of her body towards him. “Just be a normal human being who survived nearly being assassinated. You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

“What about you?” she inquires, her knees bumping his thigh as she faces him now. “Castle, I hate that your entire life has become centered around protecting me-”

“Even if this wasn’t my job, it’s what I’d be doing,” he states, shutting down that line of thinking before it can begin. “Keeping you safe… it’s all that matters to me. You’re - you already know.”

Kate raises her fingers to graze along his cheek and he catches the back of her hand, turns his lips into her palm. It’s been too long since he’s had the chance to touch her.

“I love you too,” she whispers, leaning in to nudge her nose to his cheek. She sighs out in familiar appreciation when he brushes his lips to her mouth, buries his fingers in her hair and deepens their kiss. 

Kate’s soft moan has him desperate for more, but he remains glued to the spot, waiting for her to make the first move even as he suckles on her bottom lip. All it takes is a stroke of his tongue over hers to gain the surge of her body in his arms. 

“I think it goes without saying that I’m done hiding it,” she mumbles, dragging him down on top of her, cradling his body in the embrace of hers.

“Good, because I wasn’t sure how we were going to make it another four years like this,” he breathes, smirking against her mouth when she chuckles. He chokes on a groan when her hands slide beneath his shirt, splay at his shoulder blades. “Kate, I should-”

“Remind me why I’m alive.” He drops his forehead to rest against hers, closes his eyes to the flames of sensation she elicits with the innocent touch of her fingers down his spine. But he’s helpless when her mouth opens beneath his, when her chest lifts to press against his. “Rick-”

“You’re alive because you’re too good to die,” he mumbles, kissing the skin between her brows, dusting his lips down her nose. The whimper that climbs her throat is muffled by the kiss he layers to her mouth. Her ribcage stutters beneath his hands as he skims his palms to her flesh, caresses the taut muscles and sinewy curves of her body. He should be watching the door, guarding her, but the world is crumbling around them and all he wants is this, her. “Because I love you too much to let you, Kate Beckett.”

-

She remains tangled with Castle on the couch for a long time. Her eyes often drift to the monitor on the table across the room, to the chaos that has gone quiet, but the White House grounds are still roamed by murderers. She knows she has responsibilities, duties as a leader of the country, but Castle has a point - the only thing she can accomplish by taking any course of action now would be adding to the bloodbath with self-sacrifice. 

Castle has explained their exit strategy and has plans to communicate - once the chances of having a phone call intercepted have lessened - with Ryan and Esposito. The two secret service agents have apparently owned a role in this emergency game plan concocted between her three men since the early days of her presidency.

“They love you too, you know,” he murmurs the explanation into her hair while he brushed his hand up and down her spine. 

She nods before lowering her head to his chest, fighting off thoughts of loved ones, her lack of them. Her mom’s been gone for fifteen years, her dad passed last September. Castle’s been without his eight year old daughter, Alexis, and his mother, Martha, since long before she ever knew him. 

The list of those she cares about has only continued to shrink, but her ferocity to protect those she has left has grown.

Kate curls in closer to him. “We’re a family.”

Castle’s fingers bury in her hair, circle along her scalp. “Does that explain why they call us mom and dad?”

She scoffs, turns her head to brush her upturned lips to his collarbone. 

“We have contacts across the globe,” he picks up, circling back to their original conversation. “They’ll send reinforcements. It’s just a waiting game right now.”

“If we get through this, I don’t want to run again,” she confesses, feeling him shift beneath her, attempting to catch a glimpse of her face, but she keeps her cheek pressed to the spot above his heart.

“This isn’t a new idea, is it?” he murmurs, curving his palm at her nape. She shakes her head.

“I want to change the world and I - I feel like I had a good run these last four years, but this job… I’m tired, Rick. And after this?” She sighs, unfurls her arms from her chest and lifts her head to meet his eyes. Soft and understanding and so very blue. “I just want to live for me for a little while. I want to go back to New York and collaborate with the NYPD again, I want - I want to get a loft in the city and a beach house in the Hamptons like the one you always gushed about-”

He huffs a laugh, his cheeks warming with a hint of color. Kate balances a hand on his chest, cranes her neck forward to rest her forehead to his, nudge her nose to his cheek.

“I want a life. With you.”

“All you’ve ever had to do is say the word,” he replies, stroking his thumb to the hollow spot at the base of her skull. “I want all of that and I - I want to try writing again.”

Kate sucks in a breath, can’t help the smile. He’s been writing her short stories for years now, snippets of characters and enticing political thrillers that she’s never been able to get enough of. His writing career was cut short after the national tragedy that took his family and she never questioned it, didn’t have to. But to witness his passion for the written word and weaving of a tale renewed… it has her heart fluttering with excitement.

“Man, we really have to make it now,” he chuckles, grinning at the press of her kiss to his mouth. 

“We’re going to make it. We’re going to stop the bastards who bombed my house, took strikes at our city, our country. We’re going to rise again as a nation, like we always do, and then you and I are getting our happily ever after,” she lists, feeling her heart skip and accelerate at how badly she wants it. “And years from now, you can publish a loosely inspired novel about it.”

“Ah, President Beckett, you get me.”

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his slacks and Rick quickly leans over to snag the device.

“It’s Esposito, we need to get ready,” he murmurs, his chest expanding with a deep breath as he lifts his eyes to hold her gaze. “You’re glued to me the second we step out of here. I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“It’s mutual. I’ve got your back out there, Castle,” she reminds him, nodding her head towards the arsenal of weapons. “No more overprotective bullshit. You’re my partner.”

He sighs, but doesn’t argue. “Deal, Madam President.”

She shoves lightly on his shoulder as she reaches past him for her clothes. “And stop calling me that.”

Try me

Pairing: Reader x Girl x Taehyung
Genre: Smut
Summary: Your girlfriend saw him staring at you, daring you to play a little game to get him to want the both of you. 
Words: 4k

There was a girl talking with someone in the kitchen at the opposite end of the house and she was beautiful, with rich, brunette hair flowing around her shoulders. You were unable to stop watching her until she caught you at it. You angled through the frat-party crowd, determined to reach her before anyone else did. She noticed you and smiled. Her face was even more beautiful the closer you got. When you got to her, she kissed you immediately and you smiled against her lips. “How about a refill on that wine?” She asked, leaving your lips aching for more, as she gestured towards the empty cup in your hands.

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Faded(Namjoon AMBW Smut)

{Text From: Pikachu}

Hey are you up?

{Text to: Pikachu} Yeah, I’m up, you know I never sleep late monster, or I try not to.

{Text From: Pikachu} Yeah I know.. I need to drive, down for a ride tonight?

{Text to Pikachu} You know I’m down, come pick me up? I’ll be ready when you be there.

{Text From: Pikachu} Alright princess, I’ll see you soon.

You smiled softly to yourself as you hopped up from your bed throwing your phone down onto the sheets. Moving to start stripping slowly you slipped on a two-piece lingerie set that was a soft purple, the lace texture showing off your nipples and if you looked hard enough your pussy could have been seen though the fabric as well. You gripped at one of Namjoon’s black hoodies that he seemed to leave at your house whenever he crashed for the night and slipped it on your body. Hearing your phone ring you knew he was outside so you put on black thigh high socks not wanting to put on pants and give away the surprise plus if things were going like you planned pants would only get in the way tonight. You moved to the bathroom undoing your hair from the high ponytail you were going to sleep in, letting it fall loose and frame your face you gave yourself a once over and a big smile to pep yourself up before you were grabbing at your phone and keys making your way from your room to the front where you slipped on Nike slides that he brought you and went outside. Namjoon was in a black car, something he always came to pick you up in when he needed to get away. No one besides the members and you knew about this car so it was easier for him to sneak around in it. Smiling at him, you opened the passenger’s door and got in sitting in the seat almost snuggling against the soft seat.

“You look beautiful as always.” Namjoon complimented as you moved to place on your seatbelt causing your face to heat up and you were thankful the light was dying down.

“And you look just handsome and ever so fine.” You commented looking over at him. His brown hair was away from his forehead and styled more on the messy side, his tanned skin glowing as the light faded. He had on gray sweats and a black V-neck showing off his skin and his arms. Teasing him you lightly pinched on his muscles and he chuckled starting to drive off.

“Someone has jokes.” He rolled his eyes and you shrugged looking out of the window.

“Part of the reason you fall for me every time.” You muttered out lifting your feet to rest against the dashboard looking out the window.

“And you know that’s not the only reason why.” He answered back moving his right hand to pat your thigh and grip at the inside of your left thigh as he drove.

You and Namjoon had been involved with each other a little over a year or so now. It started when you bumped into him smoking outside of a convenient store. You had wanted to spazz over him so bad but seeing him tense up as you stood frozen in front of the idol with the brown stick between his lips, you simply smirked and collected yourself walking past him whispering ‘put that out before you get caught’. You didn’t care that he smoked weed, who should it was his life. But knowing that you got to see him, and not react in such a way that he expected made you happy. Thinking you would never see him again you decided to attend a concert that the boys held in Seoul but you didn’t go onstage to meet them, you didn’t want to you only wanted to see him, the dimpled cutie. And from the way he looked at you, it was confirmation he remembered you. He chased you once he spotted your body leaving the venue. A little flustered he tried to get his words out, checking out your body his eyes were eager to roam your frame and your face last. “Want to hang out some time?” Was all it took for him to ask you before the both of you were bonding and getting to know each other. He called you up whenever he was stressed and needed to vent and smoke or just to fuck. And you single and currently working your job to live comfortable and pay bills, needed someone who could help you relieve stress since you weren’t involved with anyone. Namjoon was your best friend if you had to put it in to words. Just a best friend that you fucked until you couldn’t move or vice versa. Some nights there was cuddling too, it wasn’t always sexual between the two of you it was just something that you both loved doing and took advantage of.

Your head swirled around the male beside you, with one hand propped up against your cheek as your elbow pressed slightly against the fogging window you studied him from the corner of your eyes. How he was quiet yet biting on his bottom lip thinking intensely about something. Eyebrows furrowed slightly as his dimpled started to deepen with each nibble to his pink lips that he took. Your nose picked up on the soft smell of his cologne that bounced off the air waves of the car. He was so beautiful when he was quiet and even when he talked, his brown hair just resting there looking so soft like silk and a silent shudder overtook your body becoming littered with goosebumps as your mind wandered south.

“Will you ever stop watching me and just tell me what’s on your mind?” Namjoon asked chuckling softly as he made a few more turns before letting the black car move between a pair of trees that faced part of the Han River. Your face broke from the expressionless state you tried to keep it in. Your lips twitching tilting up in the corners placing a smile on your features. Your eyes focused on the lights that decorated the bridge going across the river before you looked over at the male who was leaning back against the black leather seats watching you.

“I can’t help it, you’re so beautiful Namjoon you know that I will always fawn over you and I rather do it quietly than be like every other fan girl..” You felt a soft pout adorn your features as quick as the smile had been there. Namjoon chuckled moving his hand from your thigh up towards your cheek, cupping it softly he tiled your head so that you watched him.

“I love that you watch me. But when you go quiet on me of course I worry just like you do me. Everything is fine though isn’t it?” He asked softly his deep voice making you feel reassured and calm. You knew he was caring but he was also trying to get out of opening up like always.

“Kim Namjoon. I appreciate your concern but at the moment I’m not going through anything you are now start talking.” You said a bit sternly but you leaned over to press a soft kiss against his pink lips before you pulled back to rest against the seat. Namjoon sighed heavily seeing that he hadn’t won, nodding his head he let you go leaning back against the seat looking out of the window.      

“We don’t have to talk if it’s that bad.” You tried to reassure him a bit, your hand coming up to rub across his shoulder blades and he smiled at you comfortingly finding peace at how slow and gentle you took him. He shook his head stating he would open up, licking on his lips he slowly started to speak.

You sat there and listened to his problems and concerns. Majority of his complaints weren’t that serious, just his thoughts that every person gets but some things made you worry and you had to remind him to always put his best food forward. You knew he was possible of achieving great things and you just needed him to believe it as well. He was afraid of somethings which was understandable and while he talked you made sure to pay attention reassuring him when you really needed to. Letting him have the floor though you made sure to not interrupt him while he vented his heart out. You admired his strength and the way his mind seemed to work about things. You loved a man with brains and beauty just like you were sure all men loved. Namjoon finally finished his long spew looking over at you with heavy eyes and you shrugged giving him your last piece of advice.

“You know what needs to be done. So do it, go for it and chase it. Stop being so afraid to take a chance because well you just won’t know if you don’t try.” You leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the lips and you saw his brown eyes cast downwards towards your lips causing you to smirk.

“Damn, y/n. With you kissing me like that I don’t need the weed.” He chuckled but pulled the stick out of his pocket already rolled up. You fished your hoodie for the lighter, sparking it to life you pressed the fire against the blunt letting the end burn as the smoke started to fill up the car. Namjoon kept the windows rolled up so that the high could come faster. While he worked on taking a few puffs your hands reached for the radio plugging in your phone to turn on Red Bone by Childish Gambino. Namjoon let out a content sigh with your playlist a vibe setting between you two that always seemed to start out like this.

An hour later you two were both stoned, your eyes glossed and tension running high. You crossed your legs one over the other to stop the dampening wetness that was taking a damage on your panties as well as the throbbing and the constant clenching from the need to feel him buried inside of you. Namjoon however just sat there mind reeling about how good it would feel to have your wet lips around his shaft, both pair.  Your head tilted back and you released a soft groan, Now or Never was the next song that blared through the speakers. You felt the heat flood to your face, it was too much and you needed him too bad tonight to play the waiting game.

“Fuck this shit.” You muttered out causing Namjoon to sit up about to question if something was wrong but in no time, you were straddling his lap your hands moving to tangle into his hair as your lips crashed together in a heated kiss. He groaned against your lips his large hands moving to grip at your hips pulling you closer to him. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, nibbling on the plump flesh and his tongue interrupted sliding into your mouth dancing against one another. You mewled in pleasure letting his tongue explore your wet canvas and flick over every ounce of space, your hips rolled down against his causing a shiver to trail down your spine at how good the friction felt. The lace panties you had on were very thin and you were feeling the outline of his hardened shaft pressing against your folds. He let you take the pace, knowing how to control his urge he let you dry hump him, loving how needy you were and how your body moved against his. He loved feeling like you were just needy for him. He loved how you couldn’t stop rocking your hips against his wanting more of him, the soft whimpers that passed from your lips to his. How your hands gripped at his hair to tug on the silk locks causing a grunt to leave his lips. One of his hands moved up to grip at your breast, fondling you through your bra and over the hoodie he felt for your nipple teasing you with soft touches. His free hand slipping under the hoodie, gripping at the panties he pulled on them until they were sliding between your ass cheeks. He moved both his hands back down, gripping at both of your ass cheeks he slapped them once before planting his feet down against the floor of the car properly grinding up against your heat. He moved his lips down to your jaw grazing it with his teeth before he moved to suck on your neck, creating blistering dark purple hickeys on your brown skin. Bruises that would stay on your skin for a while after this. He was a bit possessive of you and though no one outside of the members knew what lives you had mixed into each other, he took pride knowing when you went to work they all knew that someone was pounding your pussy the right way. Namjoon gripped at your ass cheeks tighter lightly bouncing you on his lap until he was shifting his hips lightly to press his outline against your clit, pressing your hips down hard against his he was able to rock upwards and rub against your clit the stimulation causing your head to tilt back as you cried out, your pussy clenching tightly as your toes curled in the socks, it didn’t take you long before you were cumming, ruining your panties and become a flustered mess on his lap. Namjoon chuckled helping you grind your hips until your high was passed.

“You always cum so easily for me on that first round. I love it.” He moved back to press a sweet kiss against your forehead.

“Fuck you.” You muttered pulling back from him to get in the space between his legs.

“That’s what you’re going to do in a bit yes.” He teased and you rolled your eyes, hands moving to grip at his shorts and you slipped them down his legs not surprised by the fact that he didn’t have on boxers. You moved to grip at his shaft, pumping it a few times before you licked up the salty sweet precum, your tongue swirling and rubbing against the sensitive slit. Namjoon cursed silently trying to keep his hips from bucking but it was hard with how you teased him and how he remembered your mouth feeling. You continued to pump him for a few strokes until your mouth was opening wider to take him down your throat. You started to suck on the head of his shaft harshly like it was a lollipop before you were sliding more of him into the warmth of your canvas. Sucking eagerly on his shaft you looked up at him with your wide eyes taking in the sight before you. He moved a hand to grip at your hair dictating the movements of your head. He watched you with lust blown eyes biting on those gorgeous lips as he concentrated on watching you suck his dick. Your tongue swirled around him searching for the spots to press against that you knew would make his toes curl. Your tongue lapped at him, slurping noises were falling form your lips as you slurped up the excess spit, feeling some drip from your lips to your chin but you didn’t care. Your free hand moved to grip at his balls fondling and playing with them. You felt them tighten as his cock throbbed and you pulled back with a wet pop shaking your head left to right.

“You’re not cumming without me.”

“Because you haven’t already?” He snarled back slightly jerking you into his lap which you loved for him to do. He gripped at the hems of the hoodie mumbling a ‘take this shit off’ as he stripped you and threw the hoodie into the back seat becoming speechless as he looked at the set you had on. You felt a surge of pride through your system, moving to situate yourself but before you could Namjoon ripped the panties from one side of your body enough to free your pussy just enough for him to slam up into you causing a cry to ripple from your throat. Your hands moved to grip at his shirt as he started to pound into you with his hands on your hips. Slamming you down he bucked his hips up, the slapping noises being heard over the blare of the music in the car which was still kind of hazy. Namjoon was sometime impatient and right now you knew he wanted you to cum just as much as he wanted to chase his own orgasm. He leaned close biting on your nipples through your bra, sucking on the flesh until it was damp he circled his hips up snapping against yours. The car was rocking you were sure of it, and the thrill of anyone coming and catching you both in the act made it feel more arousing. Your pussy dripped with wetness the tight walls sucking in his dick deep into your walls, your hand moved to press against the fogged-up window as the other hand gripped at his hair. You cried out everything that you could think of but your mind was going blank, all that you knew was that it was nice to feel Namjoon giving you everything you missed while he was gone. One of his arms locked around your waist from behind as he brought the other hand to rub at your clit, tapping against the puckered wet pebble he looked up at you giving you a sloppy kiss as your teeth clashed together as well as your tongues.

“Joon-“ You croaked out with whatever strength you had left and he got the hint nodding his head he dropped you down in his lap smirking up at you.

“Finish yourself off.” He demanded as he leaned back watching you. His erection still pressing against your insides against your spot. You whined softly hating when he was like this. Moving to slide your arms out of the bra straps to free your breast, you let your hands move to grip his knees behind you. Slowly you lifted yourself up and dropped yourself back down, repeating the motions over again until you were getting faster. Fucking yourself on his dick and he watched as you slid his dick deep into your wet pussy the tight suction causing his mind to become muddied as well. He didn’t say too much just watch you, his hands moving to pinch at your nipples fondling them some more. You could feel the familiar knotting in your stomach, the whines that bubbled from your lips didn’t mask the high pitch needy cry that ripped from your throat as you came on his shaft, bouncing with as much strength as you could, your legs starting to slightly shake as your arms slowly gave out. Namjoon moved his hands up to grip at your hips continuing to pound up into you until he was pulling out of you sliding you down on his lap. You got the hint, pressing your wet pussy lips against him you ground your hips back and forth until he was cumming on the crack of your plush ass and onto his legs. The cum running down his angry shaft, you waited a minute before you moved to get back on your knees licking him clean and smiling sheepishly.

Once you were done, Namjoon held you in his lap you both naked and just basking in the quiet city, your highs both dying down within each other.

“Come back to my house for round two?” you asked him softly and he nodded his head kissing your lips.

“I’m in the mood for a bubble bath fuck session.”    

Failure to Set-Up - Jim Kirk

Summary: Just an evening with Bones and Jim in which you want to set your friend Bones up with someone and your boyfriend, Jim, won’t let you.

Prompt: the “Aw, babe, you had a crush on me? That’s embarrassing.” scene from Parks and Recreation.

Warnings: language, friends bein’ friends

A/N: IT’S ALL DIALOGUE. s’not really a jim kirk fic, i guess. but there’s a reader x jim pairing. it’s friends talking to friends, making fun of friends, hanging out with friends. it’s a good ass time, folks. 


Standing in the doorway of his office, Leonard glowered at you with his most exhausted scowl.

You would have been offended and thought the action to be a result of your sitting in his chair with your feet atop the desk had it not been for the large wet spot darkening the blue fabric of his uniform from rib to hip. 

He held a towel to the lake-sized spot— a towel that you could only describe as the color of unbrushed teeth— and strands of his dark hair abandoned its clean ‘do to fall into his hazel eyes, his head tipped downwards.

You clicked your tongue and scoffed loudly in annoyance when he neared the desk and used the back of his PADD to swat at your boots repeatedly, only stopping when your feet hit the ground. “What the fuck’s your problem?”

“Ask me what’s on my shirt, (Y/N). Do me the great pleasure of askin’ that.” A sigh heavy enough to contain the weight of the world left his lips as he fell into the thinner, much smaller chair across the desk.

Frowning as you watched him struggle to hold his head up as if he was imitating an infant, you complied. “What is on your shirt, Leonard?”

“This, sweetheart, is the piss from a man’s bedpan,” he told you, rubbing his left eye with two of his fingers. “Now ask me how that happened.”

“How did that happen?” you almost deadpanned.

“One of his jackass ensign pals spilled somethin’ on the floor n’ slipped on it, knocked right into me.” He dropped his hands to sit on either of his knees. “Ask me what was in my hands.”

“I think I can connect the dots from here.”

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Yellow: Part 3

Previous Parts

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam Winchester is fresh out of rehab after overdosing and scaring his family half to death. High school isn’t the best place to recover, but there’s something about the new girl that gets him through the day.

Tags: AU: High School, punk!sam, Dean is only one year older than Sam, Mary is alive, horribly awkward teenagers with big ole crushes on each other, Castiel is Sam’s therapist, FLUFF

Trigger Warnings: past drug abuse/overdose, self-harm mention, depression

Words: 2361

A/N: Finally, the Sam installment to my Punk AU collection. *Sam is more depressed than scary/angry*

Originally posted by supernaturalismykryptonite

Forever Tagging: @kay-marie19,  @classicteenagenothing, @that1awkwardfangirl,  @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel,  @writingbeautifulmen, @immostlyconfused ,  @sii88, @feministcastiel, @iamflanneltrash,@wrapbuckyinablanket,@restricted-illusion,  @imtotallyaunicorn ,  @chickenmcsade, @xtina2191,  @doctorcziken,@envydean, @itsoliviajohn,  @that1seniorchick,@sis-tafics, @ilovetardisblue,  @iwantthedean, @wibly-wobly-winchester,  @mrswhozeewhatsis,@drarina1737, @milkymilky-cocopuff, @ellen-reincarnated1967,  @a-sea-of-fandoms,@voidobsession,  @that1seniorchick,@purgatoan, @rikkielovesmusic88 , @maddieburcham1, @shippingismythang , @a-broken-hunter,@fangirlofeverythingme,@senselesssamii , @darquethoughts , @kris–ann– , @capislife123 , @katekitoka,@starswirlblitz,@hillface89, @chipmunkrightsactivist, @mogaruke, @emoryhemsworth, @s4m-w1nch3st3r5287, @deanbean-and-samsquatch , @pretttypadalecki , @frankiea1998, @exploratiionist, @xxmizzlexx, @kittenofdoomage

Series tagging: @nerd-watching, @brewsthespirit-blog, @bella-maria2018, @nanie5, @amorluzymelodia, @psychidella, @kathrynxox333 , @bemyqueenofdarkness  

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Professor - three.
  • Baekhyun x Reader
  • Angst x AU
  • Word count: 1414
  • Warnings: SMUT

Description: A Professor who is willing to cross boundaries and a student that is not, feelings and minds change, will yours?

A/N: OKAY THERE IS SMUT. You wanted it, you got it. It is the worst smut I have ever written/read/reread/rerereread. I don’t like to go into deep details with smut because it just doesn’t feel right. It seems rushed and I’m sorry.

one. // two. // three. // four. // five. (soon)

Originally posted by littlebyuns

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Castle falls asleep on Beckett's chest.

Post 4x04, Kick The Ballistics.

-

She hated for him to see her broken, raw and trembling and overwhelmed with inner demons, but part of her had been grateful for the one time she had let him. In her own apartment, during an unexpected panic attack a couple of weeks ago, he had touched the shaking bone of her shoulder, murmured comforting words, relatable words.

I know, Kate, I know. I have them too.

She hadn’t necessarily believed that, couldn’t picture Rick Castle enduring the torturous episode of a panic attack, but he hadn’t been lying to her. 

The return of Jerry Tyson had rattled him, she knew that, and ever since the heartbreak she had caused him throughout the summer, their partnership had been a bit more tentative. Her shooting, those words she isn’t supposed to remember, still looming over them, she knew that too. Castle was under a lot of stress, probably dealing with a good dose of emotional turmoil, but that knowledge hadn’t prepared her for his mother to call her in quiet distress, worried over her son and unsure of what else to do.

“This has happened before, once not long after the divorce with Meredith, when he was under so much pressure,” Martha had babbled, her voice a contradiction of calm and factual, frantic and fearful. “And I know he doesn’t like for anyone to see him like this. But I could hear him when I went to let him know I was leaving and he just sounded so - so grief stricken, and I just can’t not-”

“I’m on my way,” Kate had promised his mother, already changing directions, turning away from the entrance of the subway that would take her home and towards the sidewalk instead, hailing a cab that would get her to his loft quicker. “Just ten minutes, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, darling.”

Martha had stuck true to her word and after impatiently riding the elevator to the top floor of his building, Kate is able to stride inside the loft, take the path to his office without a second thought. Her fingers pause over the handle to his bedroom door, though, apprehension flaring in her stomach. She’s never been inside his bedroom and it isn’t her right to just barge in.

“I’ll be out in just a moment, Mother,” he calls out when she knocks, and he’s a skilled actor, talented in the roles he plays for those he doesn’t allow inside, but she can still hear the slight quiver in his voice. 

“Not your mom, Castle,” she calls back, hearing nothing but silence on the other side of the door for a split second before his footsteps rush towards her. 

The door swings open and despite the smile he musters for her, she can see the cracks in his exterior. 

“Beckett, to what do I owe the pleasure of an unexpected visit?” he quips. “And how did you get in here?”

“Your mom let me in while she was on her way out.” Technically, it was true. “I thought after everything with this case and 3XK… I thought you could use some company.”

His eyes ripple with surprised delight, gentle appreciation, and she wishes she would have thought to come to him sooner, to care enough to check on him without his mother having to inform her of his current state. 

“I - that’d be great. Have you eaten?”

“No,” she admits, biting her bottom lip when Castle steps out of his office, his hand rising to glance the small of her back before it quickly falls away. She misses the warmth of his palm without even having the chance to experience it. “Have you?”

“I was just about to,” he lies, the grin stretched across his lips charming but strained, enough for her to see through.

She doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t try to bring up what she knows is bothering him, but she does stick close to his side in the kitchen, helping him heat up leftover pasta that smells divine despite its time in the fridge. She sits beside him on the couch while they eat, engages in the comfortable small talk, the silence that falls between bites yet never becomes awkward. Not with him.

“How’re you holding up?” Kate finally asks after he’s set his bowl down on the coffee table in front of them, taken the last sip of the red wine he had poured in matching glasses for them. She still nurses hers between her palms.

Castle tilts his head at her in feigned confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Rick,” she murmurs, watching him physically deflate, sighing out in defeat as his shoulders slump, his lips falling into a frown and his eyes going dull, and she stretches forward to deposit her wine glass on the table beside his.

“I’m okay,” he states with a shrug. “Not even sure why it bothers me so much. Ryan is the one who went through hell during this case.”

“What Tyson did to you both was equally traumatizing-“

“Trauma?” Castle scoffs, shaking his head at her. “I didn’t - there’s no trauma, Kate. I’m fine. I just - I guess this case had me afraid that Tyson would step up his game, come after us, people I care about.”

“We never would have let him come after Martha or Alexis,” she swears to him, hoping the knowledge that he had an entire precinct ready to protect his family if need be would provide him with comfort, but she watches his lips purse instead.

“And you?”

Kate shifts on the sofa to face him, her brow creasing with confusion. “Me?”

Castle scrapes a hand through his hair and averts his eyes, looks as if he’s about to rise, take a page from her book and make a run for it, so she drapes her hand atop his knee, effectively stays him.

“I can’t protect you,” he gets out without meeting her eyes. “Couldn’t protect you. I wouldn’t have been able to stop Tyson if he had-“

“Castle, stop,” she breathes, her fingers clenching hard over the bone of his knee.

“And I know you don’t need my protection, but I can’t - God, I can’t lose you again, Beckett,” he confesses, his head in his hands and his body curling in on itself, protecting himself. From her. “Not like that.”

“You’re not,” Kate chokes out, the terrible grief clogging her throat, knotting in her chest beneath the bullet scar that consumes her sternum, consumes everything.

She’s close enough to drop her forehead to the rounded bone of his shoulder, the scent of his aftershave drifting up to greet her, embrace her, and she inhales a deep breath of it, of him, and swallows down her own anguish, focuses on Castle’s.

His spine is stiff, his entire frame rigid beneath the foreign proximity she offers, and Kate reaches for one of the hands fisted in his hair. He lets her have it without resistance, his head turning towards her to watch as she cradles his fingers in her palm, strokes her thumb along his knuckles.

“You’re not,” she repeats, feeling the intensity of his gaze resting on her, searing through her. “I’m still here, Castle,” she whispers, drawing his palm to her chest, up to her heart.

The harsh intake of his breath shudders through them both, but he allows her to keep his hand flat against her sternum, her heart galloping to meet his palm, crashing against the cage of her ribs to feel the warmth of his skin seeping through her shirt.

She couldn’t return his confessions of love, not yet, not with words, but she could offer him this - reassurance in whatever form he needed. She could let him hold onto her heart before she gave it over completely.

“Kate,” he whispers back, but she doesn’t answer, her forehead still sealed to his shoulder, a new favorite place of rest, one where she’s content to remain.

And that’s what they do for a long while - remain. His hand cradled to her chest, her forehead to his shoulder, and his body beginning to lean into hers as time passes.

“Don’t go,” Castle sighs out, his hand going slack beneath hers, and she controls the descent of his fist to her side before she attempts to rise from the sofa. “Beckett-“

“Shh, let’s get you to bed, Castle,” she murmurs, squeezing his bicep before she stands, tugs him up with her. “I’ll stay a little while longer.”

That earns a surprised quirk of an eyebrow despite his drowsy state, the exhaustion from the panic attack that had caused his mother to dial her number, from the pasta and the wine that has even her eyes feeling heavy, from the thought of losing her - all of it overtaking.

He shuffles towards his bedroom with her at his side, his warmth like a magnet she fails to stray from, her body easing onto the edge of his bed even as he plops down. Her mind is in turmoil, red flags and alarm bells plaguing every inch of her skull, but her heart beats hard and fervent behind the walls that bind it, keep it from the man lying next to her on the bed.

“You really don’t have to stay,” he mumbles around a yawn, offering her a reassuring smile, the one he often uses to comfort her, calm her, and they may still be waiting, but that doesn’t mean she can’t stick around, take care of him a little longer, whether he needs her or not. God knows he would do the same for her without hesitation.

“Just for a few minutes,” she replies, easing down onto her side, facing him, and holding her breath as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Kate,” he murmurs, his fingers traveling to stroke up and down her spine, eliciting shivers and streaks of heat all at once, sending her eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you.”

They peel open at that.

“Always,” she returns, watching the blue of his eyes burn so brightly in the darkness of his bedroom before his lashes fall shut to hide the need she recognizes coming to life.

She falls asleep mere moments after she watches his eyes close for a final time, after she trains the rise and fall of her chest to the steady rhythm of his breathing beside her. 

-

The next time Kate wakes, it’s late in the night and her eyes are thick with sleep, her chest heavy with the weight atop the frame of her ribs, the press of his cheek to her sternum, his ear at her heart. It should hurt, her muddled brain muses, the pressure atop her gunshot wound, but the seal of his cheek to her sternum does the opposite. 

He anchors her.

It should terrify her too, but she blinks through the grit of her slumber to catch a glimpse of his face, slack and at peace, innocent and untouched by the grief she had passed onto him. She’ll dislodge him before morning, probably be out of his loft before he even awakens, but for now, Kate combs her fingers through his hair, sighs quietly when he tightens the arm around her waist and nuzzles gently, his nose grazing her collarbone.

This is what she’s working so hard for, trying to be better for, what they’re both waiting for. But for tonight, she erases her shooting from her mind, dispels thoughts of Jerry Tyson and the ache in Castle’s eyes when he’d said he couldn’t protect her, and gives him the beat of her heart, the drum of reassurance beneath his ear. For tonight, she allows them both a much needed rest.

The Game

Trent Seven/Reader/Tyler Bate/Pete Dunne
3250 words; smut/explicit

This contains spanking, if you’d like that as a warning and/or enticement.

-

Trent always likes to have the lads over to watch the football, but thus far, he’s only ever invited you to join them when it’s just him and Tyler. And you’re happy with that, because Tyler’s a good guy, so when Trent informs you that this afternoon it will be a party of four, you’re a little taken aback.

“Pete?” you say. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?” Trent asks. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Pete’s great,” you answer. “I love Pete, but he’s kind of a dick.”

Trent shrugs. “I can keep him under control.”

You slide your arms around his waist, looking up to kiss him, his moustache tickling your face. “You’re good at being in control,” you say softly, and he chuckles, the sound resonating through his broad chest in a way that hits you right there.

“I am,” he says. “So you’ll trust me to keep him on as tight a leash as necessary?”

“Fine,” you tell him, making a show of rolling your eyes, but the truth is you’re already wet just thinking about it.

Trent slaps your ass, hard enough to be a promise, and you smile at him.

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Too Hot

Originally posted by jeonify

One of the tropes in romance movies that made you laugh time and time again was that of the partner who was generally better at whatever activity the couple happened to be participating in willingly letting the less skilled partner win. This trope popped up in movie after movie and you even saw it happen in real life once or twice. It gave you the misguided belief that no matter who you ended up with, they would take mercy on you, especially because games and feats of physicality weren’t exactly your forte, and let you win every now and then.

But, of course, luck was never on your side and you happened to end up dating one of the most competitive people you’d ever met.

If there was one thing Jungkook hated, it was losing. He’d been given the reputation of being able to do, and excel, at anything he tried. And he’d be damned if anyone saw him fail. That was one of the things that drew you to him in the beginning. His determination, his drive, it was endearing and it made you appreciate the effort that he put in to every facet of his life. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also annoy you just a little bit.

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The One Where Jeff Gets A Massage And Then Some (Jeff Atkins)

Request: Maybe one where Jeff is super sore after a big game so you give him a massage and smut ensues where you take care of him?

-

Shit!” Jeff hisses from under you, jolting against his bed. You’re touching every tender spot on his body, and he can’t decide whether he’s feeling pain or pleasure. It’s very possible that he’s feeling both. “I feel like you’re trying to rip my skin off,“ he huffs into his pillow.

“I told you not to overdo it at practice,” you snicker, and Jeff groans again.

“You know what they say: play hard, win hard, or whatever.” He groans again when you press harshly against his left shoulder.

He feels almost eerily exposed, despite the privacy of his room, with his shoulders and back naked only to you. Your touch is intimate against his delicate skin, and he stops to roll that word on his tongue, tasting it.

Intimate. It tastes sickeningly sweet in his mouth.

The feel of your fingers skating over him have him feeling drunk and needy, each muscle taut and tight and just waiting for release. You make your own personal trail down his back, curving and squeezing and rubbing, and he feels his stomach tighten and his thighs clench. He’s half hard beneath his sweatpants, and he knows that it won’t take much to get him fully going, just a few more soft touches and he’ll be yours for the taking.

“Baby girl,” he croons, and you hum from above him, amused. “You’re doing such a good job, taking care of daddy.”

Your snort only manages to make his smile stretch farther.

“God, you’re full of it, you know that?” You sneer, but you never halt in your progress of melting him down. He feels like literal putty in your hands.

“Would daddy like his baby girl to do anything else for him while she’s in this position?” You play along nonetheless, leaning forward and letting your lips just graze the back of his neck. Jeff feels a hot coil wrap around his stomach when you lick him.

You’re going to fucking kill him one day.

He twists around easily and gracefully from beneath you, his muscles only mildly protesting from the sudden movement. He takes a long moment to appreciate you. You’re scantily clad, your legs bare and spread on either side of him, and Jeff can’t help but reach out and let the rough pads of his fingers skirt across your heated skin. The wicked smile on your lips makes his heart pitter-patter in his chest.

“You sure you’re able to do this without pulling a muscle? I mean, I’m known to be pretty rigorous.”

“Oh, baby, don’t worry about it,” Jeff grins as your fingers peel back the band of his sweats. “I’m durable.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you say lowly, and you cup him firmly over his pants. He has to bite back the moan that sticks in his throat.

You rub him once, twice, three times, feeling the full, heavy weight of him, and you push yourself up and hover above him, the tips of your fingers pulling oh-so-slowly at your shorts. It’s at these moments of slow, tenuous foreplay that Jeff hates you.

You leave your shorts at the end of his bed, your shirt quickly following, and Jeff feels the undeniable rush of excitement strike through his veins at the sight of you, the displayed vulnerability sending his brain into overdrive. You run your palms up his parted thighs, your back arching as you lean over him, and Jeff jerks at the sensation.

You grip at the waistband of his pants and peel them off, revealing thick, full thighs and tanned skin. His cock lays heavy and neglected between his legs, and Jeff’s on the verge of throwing you down and having his own way with you by the time you settle yourself over him.

“Jesus, yes.” He groans when you take him in your hand, loud and unashamed. He swears he sees honest to god stars when you take his full length and let him slide into you, smooth and burning. The moans that come from the both of you are heavy and harsh.

You’re fucking slick, surrounding him with nothing but white-hot pleasure, and he feels that familiar coil in his belly get tighter and tighter with each smooth movement of your hips.

“Fucking Christ,” he moans out, breathless and practically drooling, because there’s nothing better than the hot feel of you around him, nothing better than the slew of obscenities coming from your parted lips.

Jeff can’t help but buck against you, bouncing you on his lap in a way that has him grasping at your waist and pulling you even tighter against him.

It’s only when you moan, breathless and heavy, “Daddy, god, please,” that his hips lose their rhythm and turn erratic and rough. You let out a graceless cry on one particularly hard thrust, and jerk your hips back and forth until you’re nearly sobbing, edging yourself closer and closer until you finally push yourself off. You’re air-tight as you ride your high, biting your own hand to keep from shouting, and Jeff can’t – he can’t.

“Oh, my god. I can’t fucking – holy shit,” he’s spending himself into you before he can process it, his own wave of unforgivable pleasure hitting him hard and fast. His bottom lip is bleeding from where he’s bitten into it, and he lets the sour taste flood his mouth as the sweat cools on his skin.

You fall next to him, breathless and satisfied, and he turns towards you with a grin. “That,” he pants, “was one hell of a massage.”

You laugh breathily, and push yourself closer into his chest. “Only for you, Atkins. Only for you.”

Identical Twins

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Melanie (OFM)

Word Count: 3,606

Warnings: evil twin, crazy twin, mentions of bouncing from foster homes, a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, nothing too bad

Request: Hey can you do a dean x reader where the reader finds out she has a identical twin on a hunt and the twin turns out to be crazy and tries to take dean from her and in the end they have to figure out which is the real reader and dean asks a question only she knows,thanks :) 

Author’s Note: If you want to be tagged, leave an ask or message and I’ll add you! Same goes for my Series Rewrite! If you want to request a fic, please send them in! I love writing what you guys want!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Originally posted by lexarakoon

“Sweetheart, we’re almost here.” Dean said from the driver’s seat.

“Yay, I am so looking forward to busting my ass off only to receive no thanks afterwards.” You said sarcastically, covering your eyes as you tried to take a nap in the backseat. But due to Dean’s loud ass music, you weren’t going to get any sleep.

“That’s the way to live.” Dean said, laughing. He sped up and zoomed down the road, entering a small town in Texas where you would be staying for hopefully the next few days. You hoped this case wouldn’t take much longer than that but there were some cases it took a couple of weeks.

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Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Imagine being close with the Shelby family and Thomas cannot believe how perfect you are.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Quick Message

I will not be doing this often as my blog is a Game Of Thrones one and that is how it will remain. However, I am obsessed with Peaky Blinders and will be posting 1 imagine for Thomas Shelby and very rarely may post an imagine for other shows. This means perhaps 1 every 15 imagines. I am only going to post it because it is already written but it shall not be a regular thing. If that makes any sense.

♡ ♡ ♡ PEAKY BLINDERS ♡ ♡ ♡

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William Nylander #3.3

- read the rest of the parts for this imagine here

A/N: sorry this took a little longer to put out, but i hope you guys all still enjoy how this series is going!! there was going to be a lot more in this part, but i decided to split it into two, but that means that this series gets to be longer than i planned!! thanks again for all the love guys, it means a lot :)

Word Count: 3,405

Originally posted by hockeyontrend

Party after party, you should be used to it by now. But instead you groaned till you got into your bathroom and turned on the shower. After a long day yesterday, all you wanted to do was sleep in and relax till you were to arrive at your mothers New Years Eve function later tonight. But instead you were to stand along side your father all day, at the BMO Field right here in Toronto. 

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Friday Night Heathen Army Prompt- Loose Tongue

Here is my contribution to this week’s prompt fun! If you didn’t see it, I used the picture where Alex has his shirt up and is looking at a strip of his tummy 😉

This is completely ridiculous and silly, but the idea wouldn’t leave me. I imagine Ivar as often not really thinking about what he says before he says it. Please enjoy!

TW: none

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“Do you think I’ve gained weight?”

You look up from your dinner to see Ivar standing in the hallway, shirt lifted as he stares at his perfectly toned stomach. You shrug, lifting another forkful of fried rice to your mouth. “I don’t know, why?”

He lowers his shirt, grabs his crutches and walks back to where you are sitting on the couch. “I’m just curious. Ubbe told me about the mystery that is ‘sympathy weight’.”

You frown. “Sympathy weight?”

He sighs, settling himself back down beside you. “It is exactly as it sounds, Y/N. The man unintentionally gains weight because he sees that his partner is gaining weight. It apparently happened to Ubbe. He gained almost 10 pounds when Margrethe was pregnant.”

You rub your swollen belly, trying to remember what Ubbe looked like 3 years ago. “I can’t remember him looking any different. Besides, who cares if you gain a little weight? I shouldn’t be the only one who has to.”

He gives you that patented 'Ivar’ eye roll. “I don’t care, I was just curious. But I wouldn’t be surprised if I did. The things we’ve been eating lately, it’s no wonder you’ve gotten so big.”

That makes you set down your fork. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not a bad thing. The baby needs energy. Lots of Mexican food and sugar energy, apparently.”

You can already feel the tears pricking at the back of your eyes. “So what, I’m a huge whale who is making you eat shitty food against your will?”

Your tone catches his attention, and a wary look crosses his face. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N….”

“Well then what did you mean it like?” You can feel yourself getting riled up. Damn pregnancy hormones. “What did you mean, Ivar? Am I getting ugly too? Will you not want to have sex with me soon? Are you trying to tell me that?”

He grits his teeth, his brow creasing in frustration. “Dammit woman, you know that’s not true. We’ve had sex more times than I can count since you got pregnant. You know what seeing you carrying my child does to me.”

You know he’s right, he’s been practically insatiable ever since you told him the news almost 6 months ago. Rip your clothes off, do it anywhere, I need you right this second sort of insatiable. You are lucky your sex drive has risen to match his. But it’s too late now. The damage has been done.

“You think I’m huge and fat and ugly,” you sob. “My belly is like a giant balloon, I’m covered in stretch marks, my skin is breaking out and I can’t stop eating or crying! I’m a mess and you hate it!”

“Odin’s beard, woman, calm down!” Ivar reaches for you, but you push him away and turn your back on him. You hear him run his hands through his hair and snarl in frustration as you continue to cry.

“Dammit,” he curses to himself, and you feel the couch shift as he leans towards you.

“You are not huge, fat or ugly,” he says in his 'you will listen and not interrupt me’ tone. “You are beautiful and glowing with life. Life we created together. I didn’t think with my condition I would be able to give you children. When you told me you were pregnant, it was beyond my wildest dreams. You will get bigger, it’s the natural way. But I shouldn’t have phrased it like I did. I am sorry for that.”

You sniff, wiping your eyes on your hands. You can feel your anger slipping away at his sincere words. Ivar is working on getting better at apologizing when his mouth gets ahead of his brain, and you appreciate the effort.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, turning back around to face him. “I am taking everything so personally lately. These hormones are ridiculous.”

He reaches up and gentle wipes away a stray tear with one calloused thumb. “It’s not so bad. Remember Margrethe? How many times did Ubbe sleep on the couch because she had thrown a hormone addled fit and tossed him out of bed?”

You can’t help but giggle at the memories. “True. I would never kick you out of bed. I need you to keep me warm.”

He gives you a wicked grin. “Among other things,” he says, letting his tongue run slightly over his bottom lip. You shiver, feeling the familiar stir of desire deep within you.

He notices, and his grin gets even more sinful. He reaches into the bag beside him and pulls out a box of store brownies, your biggest pregnancy craving. “How about we forget what just happened and have some dessert, and then some….dessert.”

You look at the brownies and then to him, watching his pupils slowly begin to consume the vivid blue of his irises. You feel the familiar flush of heat beginning to spread over your body. The brownies look delicious, but him even more so. You give him a saucy smile.

“I don’t think I’m craving brownies anymore,” you say, and it’s all the invitation he needs. The box is tossed to the floor and for the next hour, you forget all about hormones and brownies and Ivar’s loose tongue.

Well, maybe not about the tongue.

****
Dedicated to me, who once threw the biggest pregnancy hormone induced fit over the fact the bank wasn’t open when I needed to go there. Those hormones are real, folks!